


Strength Without Meaning

by yara560



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen, One Shot, Profanity, Spoilers, i was really mad after trespasser, neg/disability
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 04:04:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12449304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yara560/pseuds/yara560
Summary: Post-Trespasser, lots of anger, lots of sad inkythis was sitting in my drafts so i just decided to publish hhah





	Strength Without Meaning

_The first few weeks weren't so bad._

The unusual lightness, her fake confidence and the seed of anger planted after the blade hacked what was left of her arm. Her little speech at the Exalted Council wasn't entirely bullshit; she was angry. She was angry because they couldn't accept the Inquisition for what it aimed to be, a force for good that could reach where they couldn't. She was angry because they were right, the corruption was in plain sight, and she might have had to see it fall like the others. She was angry, because she had lost her arm because of the stupid Anchor.

Dorian knew he shouldn't leave just yet, she's not okay, but he had to. The only thing he could do in his place was to give her the crystal, and hope to check up on her everyday. He wondered if he would see her as carefree as she was, drunk and toasting to their good times at their last night, ever again. He wondered how much would change. He wondered, waving goodbye to her, if her world was collapsing.

It was.

To know everything you believed in was a cruelly ironic twist of the truth was heartbreaking, especially since she now had the time to mull over the events that had transpired. The markings on her face weren't in honour of the elven Gods, they were slave markings to a couple of overpowered mages. What she had worn proudly, even more so in the halls of Skyhold, were nothing more than slave markings. Slave markings. She had to repeat that to herself before it truly sunk in.

No wonder Solas hated the Dalish ways. They were trying to imitate something they didn't fully know about. Like children. She kicked the closet frustratedly. Children. What they thought they had salvaged, after years of oppression, was nothing more than a stupid facade.

Leliana returned with them to Skyhold for a couple of days, finishing the last of her duties before returning to her post as Divine. She spoke with Valariel before she left.

"Inquisitor. That may not be your title anymore, but that is what you will be remembered by. You did not fail them."

It did little to comfort her.

The castle soon became empty, and she often found herself strolling through its many rooms. What they had worked so hard to establish, what they had _fixed_ , was no longer theirs. But what also riled her was that the place she spent the last three years of her life, where she had met all her companions, where she did what she did, was nothing more than a part of Solas' fucking masterplan to rip the sky back open. What did the Inquisition really stand for, then? How much had he infested what she thought was her refuge from the very beginning?

She loved everything. Her people, her companions, her work. She couldn't help but smile when they would recognise her for the deeds she did, for the people she helped, for the danger she prevented and stopped but- That seemed trivial now. What good could she do now?

_I'm useless._


End file.
